


It's A Beautiful Life

by Myrime



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Don't copy to another site, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, F/M, Family, Fix-It, Happy Ending, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Iron Family, Love, Parent Tony Stark, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Lives, don't tell me this isn't what happened, the plot is that they're happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-03-01 00:06:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18789034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myrime/pseuds/Myrime
Summary: When Tony wakes up, all his kids are there.(Because heroes deserve a happy ending.)





	It's A Beautiful Life

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in denial over Endgame. Which is why, instead if studying or sleeping, I wrote this. Don't tell me this isn't what happened.  
> (To the people who might be waiting for the next chapter of 'don't let the blue sky fade', I promise it's coming, but I left my USB drive at home.)  
> Enjoy!

When Tony wakes up, all his kids are there.

His memories are hazy, but he thinks he should be on a battlefield, facing Thanos. Instead, he recognizes his spare bedroom, furniture pushed aside to make space for the familiar shapes of medical equipment. And there, across the room, is a scene that takes his breath.

Peter sits on a couch, looking tired but very much alive. He is bumping shoulders with someone who can only be Harley Keener. He is definitely older but still has the same smile he did when Tony broke into his garage. Sprawled across their laps is Morgan, tugging at Peter’s shirt to get his attention while chatting happily. They look like they have known each other all their lives, like fitting in with each other is the easiest thing in the world.

The picture is so perfect that Tony knows he has to be dead. No matter how much luck he has had over the past five years despite the world going to hell, this is too much for him to receive. There is no coming back from what he did. If this is the result, though, these kids finding each other, he does not regret a thing. Even if he will only ever see them in his dreams.

When he tries to move, pain hits him like a dozen punches to the gut. Tony’s body feels like it is on fire, and even the most minuscule of motions aggravates the already unbearable intensity of it. He always expected there would be pain in death, but he thinks it is not fair that it makes his vision swim. He will gladly endure an eternity of agony if only he can keep watching the scene in front of him.

Distantly, Tony registers the beeping of a heart monitor picking up speed at the same rate as his breathing becoming laboured. Blinking against the dizziness, he notices his kids looking up.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter calls. He is wide-eyed and tired but sounds so very hopeful. “You’re awake.”

That sounds like a question but one that Tony does not have an answer to. He is too busy staring at the boy he lost, wishing more than anything that their hug during the battle could have lasted longer. There are a thousand things he never told Peter. That hug might have conveyed at least some of them.

“What –” Tony croaks, grimacing at the dryness of his throat.

This is as far as he gets because Morgan jumps to her feet, shrieking “Dad.” The sound hurts his ears but is nonetheless the most beautiful thing he has ever heard. Before Tony can even realize she is moving, she has climbed onto the bed and throws herself against him.

Morgan feels real, warm and solid and shaking with what might be tears or relief. “Honey,” Tony breathes. It takes all the strength he has to put his arms around her. Or one arm. No matter how much he strains, his right one does not move an inch. It is heavily bandaged and the fingers sticking out look dried up and dead. Much like the pain, Tony ignores that and concentrates on holding onto his daughter.

Tony only looks up when he sees more movement. The two boys are nothing more than blurred shapes but he would recognize them anywhere. One of them touches his arm. His skin burns at the contact.

“We need to stop meeting like this,” Harley says in a dry tone, although he sounds a bit choked. “I think I’ve never seen you without bruises.”

Tony’s mouth opens and closes but he cannot get any words out. It hits him then that, if he is truly dead, he should not be able to see them. Peter’s presence, no matter how painful a thought that is, would make sense if he did not make it off that battlefield. Harley and Morgan where nowhere near, though. Tony snapped his fingers, he felt the power of the stones. He saw Thanos dissolving in front of his eyes. It worked. It has to have worked.

So, why are they here? How can Tony have died but still be touching his kids unless something went horribly wrong?

As if Peter has developed a sixth sense for Tony being in distress, he is there. His face is close enough that his breath is warm on Tony’s cheek. The grip on Tony’s arm tightens and becomes almost painful, but that only makes it real.

“We’ve won,” Peter says, not as breathless as he did during the battle. “We’re home. All of us.”

Tony wants to close his eyes against the dizziness making his vision swim, but he needs to see them. He keeps his eyes on Peter’s moving mouth, although he cannot hear a single more word over the buzzing in his ears. He looks at Harley who has come closer too, wearing a worried expression. He looks at Morgan who holds onto him as if she will never let go again.

Minutes or hours later, Tony feels like he can breathe again. He does not miss the relief on Peter’s face. Somewhere between dying and watching Tony die, Peter has grown up.

“Look at that,” Harley says, although not as biting as he should have. He sounds like he is trying to lighten the mood. “Here I thought Tony and I am connected, but I guess you’ve taken my place. All I ever did was push him into panic attacks instead of pulling him out of them.”

Determination settles on Peter’s face. That is such a familiar sight that it aches deep in Tony’s chest.

“No one’s taking anyone’s place,” he says. Only Peter could live through what he did and still keep his bottomless optimism that the world can be a good place. “We’re all in this together.”

There it is again. _We_. Tony is not so sure he is included in that, but it instantly puts his mind at rest. He shifts his posture, so he can keep holding onto Morgan but also touch Peter’s hand still lying on his arm.

He is home. With that, he drifts back off into nothingness.

 

* * *

 

Pepper sits with him at night. With the world thrown once again into chaos and her trying to keep it spinning, Tony knows that she should rest, but he does not have the heart to tell her to go. She has pushed an armchair next to his bed and holds his hand while he sleeps, and distracts him from the pain when he does not. There has never been a more beautiful sight than her.

“What happened?” Tony asks, causing Pepper to look up from the tablet she was working on.

He knows what happened, of course. There is no forgetting the power surging through him, burning him from inside. He could feel himself dying. He was so sure he would never open his eyes again.

“You saved everyone,” Pepper says gently, sounding like she never doubted him, like she was never afraid of him never coming home.

Tony thinks of Peter, again feeling that massive relief in his chest. Then he remembers Natasha. Even that one sacrifice feels like too much.

“I mean after.” Tony is not going to mention Nat. Reversing the Snap has not made everything all right again, but they deserve to dwell on happy thoughts for the moment.

“You –” Pepper smiles, but it looks pained. Just like she did on that battlefield, staying strong for him. “We weren’t going to let you die. So many powered beings in one place, so many heroes. And none of them turned away until we were sure you’d get the best care possible.”

Tightening his grip on her hand, Tony almost does not say anything else. He died but then he did not. He needs to know.

“There’s no cure for –” Tony shrugs.

With so many heroes in place, as she so adequately put it, Tony should be reasonably sure that they did not do anything unadvised, anything reckless, just to save him. The entire power of the universe flowed through him. And yet they somehow got him through to the other end.

“Aren’t you the one always preaching that there’s no such thing as impossible?” Pepper asks, never once looking away from him.

Tony trusts her. While he has always loved too easily, that is not something he has much experience with. But in this whole wide world, he trusts Pepper without the slightest doubt.

“I’m – glad,” he says. He raises her hand to his mouth to kiss her knuckles. “That I got to wake up to you. To the kids.”

Pepper huffs, eyes gleaming. “You do remember me telling you that I wasn’t going to watch you kill yourself as Iron Man?”

That is when Tony knows that he did die. No matter how long or how permanent, his heart gave out and Pepper was there to watch it. Yet, all he remembers is her smiling for him, telling him to rest.

“I love you, Tony. We all do.”

He tugs at her hand, not strong enough to actually pull her down onto the bed with him, but she follows the motion nonetheless. There is not enough space for two and Tony’s body hurts from being jostled, but they make it work. When Pepper lies next to him, pressed up against him, Tony feels at peace.

“I love you, too.”

 

* * *

 

Dr Cho has done amazing work. She has taken up temporary residence with them, bringing the cradle along. Within days, Tony feels less like a broken doll and more like a human being again. First, he can breathe without pain, then he can sit up in bed. When he manages to keep down solid food, he is sure he will live. When he can hug Morgan properly again, bearing her weight, he knows they will be all right.

Despite all the wonders of modern medicine, there is no saving Tony’s right arm. It lies shrivelled next to him, looking charred against the sterile white of the blanket. Every movement he makes with it is agony. He has been gifted with enough miracles already, however, to pay it much mind.

“Cut it off,” Tony says as he watches Helen frown at the results of the dozens of tests she has put him through.

His words startle her and, or so he supposes, rankle her pride as a physician who is used to doing the impossible. Pepper, on the other hand, who is watching the proceedings with a critical eye, does not seem surprised. She knows Tony likes to fix things, but also that he knows when something cannot be fixed.

“What?” Helen asks sharply, sounding close to ignoring him. “Are you sure?”

Tendrils of pain creep up his shoulder, causing his heart to stumble whenever he does as much as twitch his fingers.

“I work with my hands,” Tony explains shortly, “and I can barely move this one.” He cannot feel anything but agony either. What does he need a hand for if he cannot feel the skin of his wife when they touch?

“I am sure I can get this right if we just try again.” She taps something on the screen in front of her and the cradle hums in answer, ready to run its fruitless course again.

“No,” Tony says, leaving no doubt that he is serious about this.

He is glad when Pepper steps closer to the bed, even if she does not take his hand like he almost wishes she would. She stands tall for him, just like she has always done.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Tony scoffs when Helen does not stop frowning. “You already saved the rest of me. And I’ve built an arm for Barnes before, so I’ll be able to replace my own in no time at all.” Mostly to himself, he adds, “Maybe Steve and I won’t tear the world apart next time we argue if I look more like his best buddy.”

Both women scowl at him, although Pepper does so without any heat. For now, she is still cutting him some slack, but Tony is not naïve enough to believe that she will not turn back to criticising his every decision in life. As is her right, of course, since she is still the only rational member of this family.

“I think you should wait,” Helen says but stops herself when she sees the determination on Tony’s face. Sighing, she asks, “When do you want to do this?”

“How about right now?” Tony wonders why they look surprised. They have met him before, after all.

“I guess I won’t be able to convince you to come to a real hospital for this?”

Before Tony can answer, Pepper cuts in. “He will be. Just tell us when you’ve made the arrangements and we’ll be there.”

Protest sits heavily on Tony’s tongue. He is not ready to venture out of his home yet, to face the rest of the world even if it is only an operating theatre. One glance at Pepper reveals the stiffness of her spine and the way her hands look like she wants to clench them. She is afraid to lose him after all.

Instead of saying anything, Tony merely nods his assent. This is the life he has always wanted, surrounded by his family. He will not risk losing that just because he thinks they should not make such a big deal of cutting off an arm that is mostly dead already.

He will be home again soon enough afterwards.

 

* * *

 

Peter is sitting on the couch in Tony’s living room, legs folded underneath him like he barely dared to back in the sterile and expensive environment of the tower or the compound. He looks like he feels right at home, which has Tony’s chest constricting. He has grown enough as a person to not blame that on the weakness still coming over him in waves. 

“Hey, kid,” Tony says. When he reaches the couch, he is glad he can let his legs give out. The cradle might have worked wonders on him, but he still has a lot of healing to do.

Concern evident, Peter looks him over. “Should you be up already?

Lately, they have all been conspiring to keep Tony in bed, but he is as difficult a patient as he ever was. More so, the house has become so lively, with Harley, Peter and May basically living here and so many others regularly stopping by, that Tony cannot bear to miss any of it.

“Have you ever known me to lie around, waiting for things to fall into place?”

Tony does not miss the way Peter glances guiltily at where Tony’s shoulder abruptly cuts off. He has not yet had the energy to go to the workshop and work on anything. Not even an arm for himself. He does not feel broken because of it, but it is a reminder for everyone of what has happened.

“I never thanked you,” Peter says quietly. He keeps his eyes firmly on Tony’s, although it is obvious he would prefer looking anywhere else.

“Peter, stop. You have literally nothing to –” Tony cuts himself off. It breaks his heart that Peter does not know that this world is a much better place with him in it. “I’m sorry. That’s – I pulled you into this big mess with no regards to your safety and look at what happened. I simply cannot stop messing up and –”

A hand on his arm stops him. “Mr. Stark,” Peter says. He sounds almost scolding. “You didn’t pull me into anything. You didn’t choose who Thanos would kill.”

Taking a deep breath, Tony points out, “But I took you to space to fight him.”

He remembers the first tendrils of fear spreading inside him when Peter turned up on the alien ship, and how quickly that had settled into grief.

“You told me to go home and then I didn’t,” Peter argues stubbornly, too willing to heap the blame on himself.

Decidedly, Tony shakes his head. “I should have –”

“No,” Peter interrupts him. He sounds so grown-up, even though he did not age a day during the five years Tony grieved for him.  “I was Spider-Man before I met you. I was constantly getting into danger. You made sure that I would be as safe as I could get. You built me the suit. You made sure that I had someone to call for back-up.”

Tony almost recoils at the honesty in Peter’s voice. “Except for the time when I let you go up against Toomes on your own.”

It does not bring him any satisfaction to see Peter pause. It took quite some time to get the story out of Peter in bits and pieces. Breaking into the plane in mid-air. Getting buried under a building.

“I could handle it,” Peter says. It pains Tony to know that Peter still thinks he does not have another choice.

Fighting the urge to bury his head in his hand, Tony sighs. “You shouldn’t have had to.”

Without missing a beat, Peter shoots back, “Neither should you.”

This is the first time they have been alone together since Tony woke up – at least without Tony being mostly knocked out with painkillers. There is always someone around. Harley, who is convincing Peter to do all kinds of nonsense with him. Morgan, who is excited to have so many people around who all love her. May, who, just like Tony, is not quite convinced that Peter will not vanish into thin air again if they do not keep a close eye on him.

Tony is the king of missed opportunities, but he is trying hard to do better.

“I’m glad that you’re back,” he says, no masks on his face and no humour in his voice. This is a simple truth. “I missed you. We all did.”

Peter opens his mouth but swallows what he was going to say. Instead, he nods. Tony remembers his face after Tony used the stones. He knows grief intimately enough to recognize it anywhere.

“Thank you for helping out Aunt May while I was gone.”

A smile slips unbidden on Tony’s lips. What a pair they make, presenting their _thank you_ s and _I’m sorry_ s in such an orderly fashion. They used to laugh so much together.

“Speaking of May,” Tony says, forcing his tone to lighten, “have you convinced her yet that the two of you should stay here with us?”

It becomes obvious it was the right decision to change the topic because Peter’s shoulders drop in relief. He looks around the living room with something that Tony selfishly interprets as longing, but then he eyes Tony with some regret.

“She’s going back to work. And school starts up again next week.” Peter sounds astonished that something as painfully boring as school is soon going to dictate the majority of his life again.

“You’re too smart for school,” Tony mutters, mostly because he cannot picture his brave Peter sitting in a classroom. Maybe he should hire private teachers, pull some strings, get Peter into college right away. He is a hero now, more than ever before. Surely no one is going to deny him any favours.

Peter laughs but not like he is taking Tony seriously. “I still have to earn money somehow.”

“You don’t,” Tony answers promptly. If that is somehow a problem, it could not be solved any easier. “I mean, I’ve got to let Morgan choose whether she wants the company, but there’s plenty to go around even so.”

Peter looks at his hands, embarrassed perhaps, definitely uncomfortable. “You don’t need to buy my forgiveness, Mr. Stark.”

Helplessly, Tony wonders how he can make Peter understand that this is not at all what he meant. Money means nothing to him. There is enough to have Morgan’s grandchildren live in luxury without ever having to work a day in their life. He cannot buy time, though. Peter is family, and he does not want to lose him again.

His expression must have been enough for Peter to understand at least some of what Tony cannot say, for his own face softens.

“New York is not that far away,” he says. “I don’t think May will mind if we plan regular dinner dates.”

For the hundredth time, Tony thinks he does not deserve this brilliant boy in his life or his wife and daughter, the peace he has worked so hard to get. And yet here he is. Reaching out, Tony plans to pat Peter’s back but ends up laying his arm across the boy’s shoulders.

“How about Fridays?” he says, already planning on how to get them to stay the nights.

“Sounds perfect.”

Tony is sure it will be.

 

* * *

 

Some nights, Tony thinks it should be harder. Having survived the impossible. Losing the arm. Facing his nightmare and getting spit out just a little worse for wear.

But then he turns around in bed to see Pepper’s hair spread out on the pillow next to him. He sneaks into his daughter’s room and finds her sleeping peacefully. He calls a number that has been out of commission for five years and hears Peter’s voice on the other end.

It is by no means easy. Their world is still covered in scars. People died that Bruce could not bring back, who have lost their lives after the Snap if no less because of it. Desperation runs as high as love does. The Avengers are as busy as ever.

Tony is not a part of that anymore, though. He is home, surrounded by family. That is the only place he wants to be.

 

* * *

 

Coming downstairs to find Harley sitting at their kitchen table is something of a shock each day anew. Somehow, that little boy who once saved his life, completely unfazed by having an alleged superhero break into his garage, has grown up.

He looks older than he is, too, which is likely due to the past five years. It is hard to ignore the guilt of not having reached out to make sure Harley is all right. Tony has never forgotten about him, has even told Morgan all about him, but never went farther than that. Perhaps he was too afraid of more heartbreak.

Now that Harley is here, though, Tony finds himself easily integrating him into their lives. When Peter and Harley obviously became fast friends, Tony watched it with pride as if he has anything to do with how both of them turned out or that they met. Every time he sees Morgan badgering Harley and the boy giving in with the indulgent smile of an older brother, Tony knows he cannot simply let go again.

“Is your room all right?” Tony says by way of greeting as he makes a beeline for the coffee machine.

Harley looks up from his scrambled eggs with a raised eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Vying for time, Tony concentrates on filling a mug. He has not thought much beyond this, hoping Harley would simply give him a list of what he would want to consider staying. Preferably indefinitely.

“I mean, it’s just a guest room.” Tony shrugs, still not looking at Harley. “I know you’re hardly shy, but you’ll tell me if there’s something you need, right?”

When Harley does not answer but stares at Tony pointedly, Tony has no more excuse to avoid him. With deliberate slowness, Harley says, “You make that sound like I’m staying.”

He sounds so unusually hesitant that Tony is taken aback, wondering whether he might be overstepping.

“No one is going to force you,” Tony says and almost leaves it at that. He has become better at reading people, though, at talking to people he loves. “It’s still some weeks until the semester starts, and while New York might be more fun to live in, you can stay as long as you want. Morgan’s already one brother short again with Peter going back to school.”

With Peter and Harley both in New York, though, Tony has them almost close enough to not feel like he is losing important parts of himself again.

“I’m not, though,” Harley argues cautiously. “Her brother, I mean.”

There Tony goes again, racing far ahead of everybody else. Where he is already considering family dinners and legacies and his kids staying together, Harley does not even know that he _is_ one of Tony’s kids. To be fair, they truly have not seen each other in years. Tony does not connect with many people, though. And, child or not, Harley has secured himself a place in Tony’s heart easily. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply anything,” Tony says, desperate not to go wrong here. “But she already loves you. You can leave any time you want. But we’d love you to stay.”

For a long moment, Harley simply looks at him, eggs forgotten and not a hint of what he is thinking on his face. All the while, Tony can only think how well Harley already fits in here.

Then, to his surprise, Harley’s features brighten. “If that’s the case, do I get an allowance?”

Tony almost sighs in relief, distantly wondering when he has become so dependent on people staying in his life when he was once so used to everybody leaving. Settling down at the table, he waggles a finger in the air in warning.

“I take everything back,” he mutters, unable to completely suppress his grin. “Get out before you corrupt my innocent daughter.”

The undeniable expression of guilt flashing over Harley’s face has Tony almost laughing out loud.

“It might be too late for that already,” Harley says, too amused to sound contrite. “We’ve been building a potato gun last night.”

“What is it with you and potatoes, country boy?” Tony asks, mock-disappointed. He cannot wait to see what they will build with all the real equipment scattered around the house.

“Well, you’re keeping me on a low budget,” Harley says, pointing his fork at Tony before he finally resumes eating.

That seems to have broken the tension that has unnoticeably crept up on them. Tony should let it go, should take what he has instead of pressing for more. He is all for full confidentiality these days, though.

So, even though he is not sure he is ready for the answer, he asks. “Why didn’t you come before?”

_Before_ has quickly turned into as much of a taboo as discussing the Snap had been. Since Tony was the one to reverse it, he gathers he can make an exception for himself.

Harley blinks, the fork stops halfway to his mouth. “I didn’t think anyone would know about me until Pepper greeted me as if I was some long-lost cousin she has been waiting to see again.” He shrugs, not quite managing to convey nonchalance. “Either way, my mother was – I had to take care of my sister.”

Tony suppressing a flinch, feeling guilt wash over him for the hundredth time. One phone call and he could have known about the two children left on their own. He could have helped.

“One more reason to come. You do know that you could have, yes?” Tony might have been an arsehole most of his life but he likes to think he has gotten better at helping people.

“You were missing, and then you came back looking half-dead,” Harley says as if that is a reason to shoulder the world on his own. “And then word got around that you were getting a child, and you vanished out of the public eye. You wanted your peace. I wasn’t going to drag you back into all this shit.”

Unable to say anything at first, Tony clings to his coffee mug. He has had enough of time travel for a lifetime, but he still wishes he could go back and make this right.

“When did you grow up?” Tony asks. This is not at all what he wants to know because he can imagine that it was around the same time that Peter dissolved in his arms, doomed to be forever fifteen.

Harley takes it with humour, even though there is no hiding the serious twist to his smile. “You mean in the nine years we didn’t see each other?”

“Well, you just have to make sure to be here often enough that I can watch you grow older without getting a heart attack because you’ve doubled in size and gotten a deeper voice.”

Harley watches him closely, not quite giving in to the urge to smile. He almost looks like he is going to refuse, even though they have already agreed on him staying. Or, Tony has agreed.

“I – why?” Harley asks.

There is a long answer to that, exhaustive and emotional. Tony might one day give it to Harley. For now, though, he just needs to make sure that Harley knows he is serious.

“Because we’re connected, Keener,” Tony says with a smirk. “Try to keep up.”

 

* * *

 

Tony still has not built himself a replacement arm when Steve comes to visit. Like everybody else, he stares at where Tony’s arm used to be. His face holds more than curiosity, though. Something like understanding. Tony guesses it must be strange to see him so motionless when he used to be constantly moving. For the moment, he does not need to create. He just enjoys what he already has.

Their house has become a meeting place for everyone involved in the war with Thanos. Heroes and family members, the revived and the ones left behind. First, Tony thought they simply needed a place to stay now that the compound is destroyed, but nobody has talked about rebuilding. Instead, they come for tea and conversations that do not revolve around saving the world even if that is all they used to know.

Steve is different. Tony likes to think they have forgiven each other, but they have never really made up. That does not stop him from caring for Steve’s well-being, of course. Judging on Steve’s expression, he feels the same.

This feels like it is not going to be a simple talk between old teammates – or _friends_ – so Tony waves Steve into his office, closing the door to cut off the high-pitched children’s laughter coming from upstairs. While it feels weird to take seats on different sides of the desk, Tony is not going to do this standing up.

“Tony, I –” Steve begins. This is not off to a promising start. “I guess I wanted to thank you.”

Immediately, Tony curses his moment of weakness and wonders why he ever let Steve in. It is always the same with them. They talk in circles and always end up hurting each other. That tone of voice coming from Captain America can only lead to more disappointment.

“Wow,” Tony drawls, unable to help himself going on the defence. “You _guess_. That’s like – are you sure?” He smirks, utterly without humour. “We wouldn’t want you to sell your soul to the devil.”

Red shoots into Steve’s face. Any other time, Tony might have taken some satisfaction from that. He is done fighting, though.

“No,” Steve says with that same stubborn determination that has begun many a shouting match between them. “I mean, I _know_ I want to thank you.”

It feels petty, but Tony says, “So?” and waits for Steve to answer. He figures he has earned the right to some pettiness.

“Thank you, Tony.” If not for the earnestness on his face, Tony would have thought Steve is sassing him.

“I didn’t do it for you,” Tony grumbles. He truly did not. All of Steve’s arguments to try and reverse the Snap might have never touched Tony if he had not still been grieving Peter.

“No. You did it for everyone.”

Shame flows through Tony. Here he is, thinking he might have stayed back if he had not lost the kid, while Steve, for the first time ever, does not point out Tony’s selfishness.

Not allowing that to show on his face, Tony asks, “Then why exactly do you feel the need to thank me?”

Steve leans back in his seat, looking somehow smaller than he ever did before. “Because I have never thanked you enough. For everything you’ve done for us, for me, since the Avengers formed.” He smiles, but it is cautious. “I also owe you a lot of apologies.”

Ignoring the fact that he has waited for this for years, Tony is sure that he does not want to hear this. Not now. Not when it feels like Steve does this just because Tony was willing to sacrifice himself to stop Thanos.

“Rogers –” he says but does not get any farther.

“Please, let me do this.” Steve nods gratefully when Tony slumps back in his chair and gestures for him to continue. He still takes a long minute before he speaks. “I’m sorry for saying you are selfish and not willing to lay down on the wire. I haven’t met many, if any, people worth more than you. I’m sorry for not believing you. I’m sorry for not believing _in_ you. I’m sorry for Siberia, for taking your family away. For thinking I had to choose instead of working things out with you.”

When Steve takes a breath, Tony uses his chance to speak up. “You do realize that saying that now just because you feel guilty because I snapped my fingers and undid our latest failing doesn’t make any of that right.” Tony looks at his missing arm and hates himself for it immediately. He is not a man defined by what he lacks. Maybe that thought is what makes him soften his voice. “We’ve been through a lot together. I owe you apologies too. Just saying the words isn’t going to make any of this go away.”

“It could be a start, though.”

Tony makes the mistake of meeting Steve’s eyes, reading the hope there. He does not know where this sudden desire to make up came from. Perhaps he does not need to know. Perhaps it would be all right to simply try.

“And where would that lead us?” Tony asks, honestly curious.

“To something better than this.”

As far as Tony is concerned, life cannot get much better. All the pieces are slowly falling into place. He has his home, his family. He has done his duty.

“I’m done being Iron Man,” Tony says firmly, hoping Steve is not here to try to pull him back into that life. “I’m done being an Avenger. I have a family now.”

That is not meant as a jab, hinting that the Avengers were never a family to him, but Steve winces anyway.

“I know,” he says, then adds quietly, “and I’d like the chance to someday be a part of that again.”

Taken aback, Tony cannot do anything but stare. This might be the most vulnerable Steve has ever allowed himself to be in Tony’s presence. They have never been kind enough to each other, have never given the other the benefit of the doubt. Tony’s fighting days are over now, however. He does not need to argue about battle plans and political games. As long as Steve can accept that, they might have better luck this time.

“All right.” Sitting up straight, Tony offers his left hand. “We only doomed the universe once already. Let’s try this.”

 

* * *

 

The new arm works as perfectly as Tony could make it. He has never thought of himself as someone overly attached to his limbs and body, considering the way he handled it over the decades. In many ways, the arm is even better than his flesh-and-blood one had been. It does not tire, it does not tremble. He could build in different tools, so he does not have to reach for them anymore.

Discounting all the advantages, it is still not _his_ arm. More so, it is a constant reminder of what happened. Of what he could have lost. 

“I thought you were going to paint that thing red.”

Harley has stepped onto the porch where Tony sits, watching his daughter play tag with the Hulk. Of all the things he thought he would never see in his life, this combines two of them.

The arm’s colour is Tony’s usual tanned skin tone, programmed to change according to his real skin. Tony is not ashamed of the injury. He just wants to leave the world where people lose limbs in the line of duty far behind.

“My days as a hot rod red robot are over, I’m afraid,” Tony says, surprising himself when he does not feel any regret.

“Do you believe that?” Harley asks, an ironic lilt to his voice. When Tony merely shrugs, he looks over his shoulder, calling, “Pepper, does he believe that?”

Pepper laughs from inside the house, adding something in an amused tone, but Tony does not listen. Sometimes, being alive feels like drowning. He never would have thought he would be the kind of person to have his throat go tight with happiness. But here he is, with his beautiful wife and his brilliant daughter laughing with abandon, and an all-grown-up Harley somehow fitting into their dynamic as if Tony had never left him behind in Rose Hill, Tennessee.

Life is good.

 

* * *

 

 

Tony has taken to watching the sunrise whenever he manages to. Ever since moving to the lake with Pepper, he has developed something close to a healthy sleep schedule – mostly because he loves nothing more than to wake up in bed with his wife or to have Morgan storm into their room and tell them about her dreams.

There is something incredibly peaceful about mornings, though, when colour returns into the world and warmth spreads slowly. He has spent so many years chasing the future that it feels nice to simply sit and enjoy the present.

“What are you thinking about?” Pepper asks, coming up onto the porch. Her hair shines brilliantly against her dark robe.

When she comes to a halt behind him, Tony leans back his head, seeking her warmth. He smiles as her hands come to rest on his shoulders.

“You,” he answers simply.

Tony is glad that his message from space has not been the last thing he has said to her. It was the truth nonetheless. It has always been her.

 

* * *

 

It says something about their life when Pepper does not even flinch when an orange portal opens suddenly in their living room and Morgan even runs towards it with excitement. Tony might be done with trying to save the world on a daily basis, but there is no going back once one has reached a certain level of madness.

Strange is not a frequent visitor, always busy as he is, but he is a welcome one. Contrary to how short he usually is with adults, he has a well of patience for all of Morgan’s endless questions. His cloak, too, has taken a liking to her.

To Tony’s relief, Strange has yet to give into Morgan’s pleading to teach her any magic. He is sure his heart would not be able to take that.

“It shouldn’t have been possible,” Strange says one of those nights he comes to visit, sitting next to Tony by the lake where they watch the water reflect the stars above.

They have not yet talked about what happened during their war against Thanos. Not beyond Strange saying, _I warned you that I would not save you or the boy_ , almost sounding like he wanted to start an argument.

Had they truly lost Peter, Tony is sure he would have given in. He also would not sit in relative harmony next to the man who could have saved his son but did not. They got their happy ending, though, and Tony would not hold a grudge against Strange for being willing to sacrifice Tony, no matter that he had so much to come home to. He has done the same often enough himself. 

“If I didn’t agree with you I’d scold you for your lack of faith in the stubbornness of everyone involved.”

The truth is, Tony can still not explain how they managed to save him. He has not asked too many questions either, too glad to be home.

“I saw you die,” Strange insists. It does not sound like he is gearing up for an apology, but it is not like him to begrudge Tony his life either.

“I did,” Tony points out in a dispassionate tone. “Or so Dr. Cho told me. It didn’t stick.”

It still lingers in Tony’s bones, though. A distant ache he cannot seem to get completely rid of.

Strange sighs and looks up at the stars. It is hard to believe that they have been up there and returned. “I’ve never been wrong before.”

Leaning back against the bench, Tony snorts.  “You could sound a little less disappointed about it.” Tony has thought about it too, however. Wondering whether they have truly cheated fate or if Strange simply missed something. “Look at it that way, you were searching for ways to defeat Thanos. I doubt you followed all those possible timelines until after he had won. Or, in this case, after he was dead.”

His shoulder twitching, Strange glares at Tony. “I can’t make mistakes. People’s lives –”

Tony cuts him off carelessly. “I know the drill. I’ve been in this business a bit longer than you.” And happy to be out of it. “So, let me tell you, mistakes happen. I, for one, am glad this one did.”

Unwilling to further discuss the legitimacy of his failed demise, Tony gets to his feet, stretching his aching bones. He looks at his brightly lit home, filling him with more warmth than the glaring brilliance of the stars above them ever could.

“Now, are you going to stay for dinner?” he asks, although Strange’s cloak is already tugging at its master to follow Tony. “No moping allowed.”

 

* * *

 

“Don’t you think this is a bit excessive?” May asks right before she and Peter step onto the porch. She does not do a good job of being quiet about it, but Tony is glad for it because he is worried his obsession with having Peter near is getting a bit too much, and sending the jet to pick the two of them up once or twice a week could be a clear sign for that. And that is not counting the times Peter comes on his own.

“It’s family dinner,” Peter answers without hesitation. “How else would we get here and back in time for school and work if we didn’t take the jet?”

Tony’s heart feels ready to burst. Everything has been revolving around family lately. He is just glad that Peter is as ready to use that word as Tony is.

When they come into sight, Peter’s face brightens. May has linked her arm with his, likely feeling the same need to make sure Peter is still there, still real, as Tony does whenever he has gone a day without hearing anything from him. Despite Peter being back, they can all still feel the aching hole he left behind.

It is moments like this that Tony realizes that, even if he had not made it out, bringing Peter back would have been worth all the pain in the world.

“Hey, Tony,” Peter calls, lips twitching into a slightly bashful smile.

Before Tony can say anything, Harley appears in the open door. “What did I hear? No Mr. Stark?” He grins, no trace of shame in his voice. “Didn’t think you had it in you, Parker.”

They laugh, and Tony wonders whether this is it, whether he has made up for his mistakes and this is the reward. Everything fits together.

Before they go in, he pulls Peter into a hug. Just to make sure.

 

* * *

 

Tony wonders why Howard was so averse to having Tony in his workshop. True enough, with a child present, one has to take care to not cause explosions until everybody is prepared for them, and the work definitely goes slower. There is nothing better than watching Morgan explore the world, though, inside the workshop and outside of it.

Morgan is smart. She has not been tested and, as far as Tony is concerned, never will be because he is adamant on letting her grow in her own time. If she wants to leave her old man’s genius far behind and revolutionize the world in a field of her choosing before she is old enough to move out, Tony will do everything in his power to enable her to. If she wants to stay in school until she is thirty and never put her name under a scientific paper in her life, he will not love her any less.

She is more than smart, though. She is _curious_. When in the workshop with Tony, she builds just to find out what will happen. Sometimes she follows a plan, but never to impress, never to make herself useful. With each passing day, Tony realizes more how much Howard messed up being a father.

Not once has Tony had the urge to send Morgan out when he is working. She will grow up and leave soon enough.

“Why are you always teasing Uncle Steve about dancing?” Morgan asks suddenly, ripping Tony out of his musings.

Despite the frequency of the Avengers coming up, Tony cannot quite suppress the wince at hearing his daughter calling Captain America _uncle_. Although it offers much hilarity too because Steve has not the first idea of what to do with children. Especially ones not bursting with hero worship. At five years old, Morgan is already full of sass.

“That’s easy,” Tony says, looking up from the engine he has been tinkering with. “He can’t dance. Won’t even try it.”

In a way, Tony is surprised that Steve came back from his trip to the past to deliver the Infinity Stones back to where they were from. With how pensive he had been after their detour to 1970, Tony thought Steve might have taken the chance to go back and get the life he was denied. Tony is glad he did not.

“I can’t dance either,” Morgan points out, looking slightly worried that this is bad.

“Of course, you can,” Tony says, wiping the doubt right off her face. “I’ve seen you with Peter last week. I don’t know what kind of horribly modern music that was, but you were definitely dancing.”

“We were just being silly.” Morgan giggles, face brightening the way it always does Peter or Harley are mentioned. “Can you teach me how to dance?”

“All right, Morgoona. On your feet.”

Tony gets up and wipes his hands on his shirt. Pepper gives them enough grief about ruining their clothes that he does not want to smear grease all over Morgan too. The garage might not be the best place to do this, with the bots likely to get in their way, but Tony does not care. His daughter looks up at him with hope in her eyes and he will not be the one to break her heart. Howard taught him a lot of things to avoid while being a parent.

“Get us some music, Fri.”

Knowing him well, FRIDAY does not play anything remotely possible to waltz too, but it has a rhythm that is easily followed.

Tony holds out his hands for Morgan to take and stubs her feet with his toe. “I’ll go easy on you. Just follow my steps.”

They go slow. Tony talks Morgan through where to set her feet, but she picks up the patterns very quickly. Halfway through the first song, she pushes to lead herself, and Tony just lets himself be pulled after her.

The garage is spacey enough for them to move in wide circles, occasionally stumbling over some half-built project or having to dodge DUM-E following after them with his fire-extinguisher as if they are about to catch fire. The only thing they are in danger of bursting into here is laughter. 

These days, Tony is out of breath much quicker than he used to, a slight stinging pain creeping up his right side. He does not let that slow him but twirls Morgan around and catches her when she dissolves into peals of laughter.

After two songs, their careful choreography falls apart when _Iron Man_ comes on, which Morgan naturally knows by heart. After that, there is a lot of off-key singing and uncontrolled waving of their limbs.

When the song fades out, Morgan sinks against Tony’s legs, trusting him to keep her upright. Tony picks her up, certain that he will never get over the sheer wonder of having created this perfect human being and being loved by her so effortlessly.

“Dancing is easy,” she decrees, putting her arms around his neck. “Maybe Uncle Steve is too shy to ask for your help.” With a grin that cannot be described as anything but wicked, she adds, “I could teach him.”

Something in Tony’s chest constricts as he pictures Steve and Morgan laughing together, becoming friends even. All of them deserve to break the curse that seems to put Steve and any given Stark in a love-hate relationship. They are not quite there yet, but Steve and he have finally talked. Surely, they will get there at some point.

“I will get you more ice cream than you can eat in a week if you ask him,” Tony offers, only half-joking.

Morgan, raised by the world’s best CEO, looks up at him with big eyes. “Can we call him right now?”

Suppressed laughter sounds from the door to the garage. Morgan in his arms, Tony looks up to see Pepper standing there, watching them with a smile. Holding his daughter firmly on one hip, he stretches out his other arm to beckon Pepper closer.

“FRIDAY,” she says as she comes in, “please play something that is less likely to make us deaf.”

The music switches to something much slower as Pepper steps into her family’s waiting arms. Together, they dance.

 

* * *

 

Months pass and life falls into a new routine. Harley stays, of course, and Peter spends at least every other weekend with them. Morgan is beyond happy to have two brothers doting on her.

While Tony has always trusted the things he built with his own hands, he was also sure that everybody leaves. Now, though, he might just begin to believe in getting his happily ever after.

One night, after he brought Morgan to bed for the third time after she kept following him to the garage, Tony finds Peter sitting on the porch, sipping hot chocolate but looking not surprised at all at Tony coming up to him.

“Can’t sleep?” Tony asks, taking a seat next to Peter. “I could read you a story. It usually helps Morgan.”

Peter smiles but it is a fleeting thing. Instantly, Tony is worried. Life is good but not perfect. The trick is not to hide the cracks but to work on filling them.

A long moment passes without either of them saying anything. Peter is tense, and where Tony might have filled that silence with nonsensical chatter once, he has become good at waiting for others to be ready to talk.

When Peter finally speaks, though, Tony almost wishes he had gone straight to bed.

“Why did you do it?”

As vague a question this is, there is no mistaking what Peter is talking about. Everybody is still carrying scars, but life is going on. Outside of this place, people still talk about Iron Man as a hero. Here, he is just Tony.

“Did you hit your head, kid?” Tony asks, trying to lighten the mood, despite knowing the futility of it. “Half the universe was gone. Someone had to do it.”

“There were a lot of people there who had better chances to survive the stones,” Peter argues stubbornly. He looks at Tony as if this is still a fresh wound. As if Tony is still lying frail and dying in a hospital bed.

“You were there,” Tony says, much gentler. “We didn’t exactly have time to make plans.”

Peter is quiet, eyes firmly on something only he can see. Nobody who was there could forget the battle. The chaos, the fear of losing when they had just then made an important step to making things right again.

Tony watches Peter from the side, wonders whether he still has nightmares. He could not bear the thought of failing Peter again.

“What brought this up?” Tony asks, willing Peter to trust him.

“You have a family now.” Peter sounds like he has a whole speech prepared. In the end, he merely says, “You shouldn’t have.”

Despite the topic, warmth blossoms in Tony’s chest, as it always does when he realizes that Peter willingly stays around, that this affection is not one-sided, that he has not lost this kid he loves as though he were his own son.

“Everybody else has family too,” Tony says. “And my family was not complete either.”

Peter winces, making Tony wonder what he did wrong. “So, it’s true?” Peter asks, wide-eyed, whole body tense.

Shifting in his seat so he can better face Peter, Tony frowns. “Don’t be so cryptic.”

It looks like Peter is trying to make himself smaller than he is, not quite meeting Tony’s eyes. “Happy told me that he thinks I’m the reason you did it.”

Funnily, Tony’s first thought is to yell at Happy for obviously spilling the beans in a way that has Peter thinking he has done something wrong. Peter looks like it is his fault that Tony almost died.

The smart thing to do would be to reassure Peter. No matter that it might hurt, though, Tony needs Peter to understand that he is worth dying for. Tony might have regretted leaving Pepper and Morgan alone, but he did not hesitate anyway because Peter deserves to live his life. 

“I like to think that I’m not completely selfish anymore, but – Peter.” Tony interrupts himself, thoughts racing too fast to put into words. He does not take his eyes off Peter. “Of course, you were the reason. You –”

Tony gestures helplessly, still feeling the way his fingers grasped at empty air, Peter’s last words in his ears.

“Died in your arms,” Peter continues helpfully, sounding no less dejected. “But then you almost died in mine.”

Acting on pure instinct, Tony pulls Peter towards him into a hug. He has grown more liberate with his displays of affection, but Peter is still surprised every time it happens. Now, though, he sinks readily into Tony’s arms, hand clenching in his shirt.

“Hey, kid. It’s all right,” Tony mutters into Peter’s hair, holding on as tight as he dares. “It worked out.”

Breathing shakily, Peter lets out something that sounds like a sob. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You didn’t.” Tony tries to remain calm over the acute feeling of his heart breaking. “We’re fine. We’re home.”

That is what Peter told him when he woke up after he was sure he would die. And they are. They built this home and they deserve it.

With his face still buried against Tony’s chest, Peter asks, almost too quiet to hear. “Why? Why me?”

There are a thousand answers to that question, and Tony will be happy to give them all to Peter. For now, there is only one that matters, though. “You’re family,” Tony says firmly and without hesitation. They cannot leave any room for doubt about this. “You’re Morgan’s big brother. She’s loved you before she’s ever met you.”

Peter stays silent for a long minute, but some of the tension drains out of his body. He still does not let go of Tony, and Tony is happy to keep him in his arms.

“She’s brilliant,” Peter finally says.

Tony smiles widely, unbelievably glad that his children get along so well. “I hope you’ve told her that. Everybody deserves to know they are loved.”

Shifting slightly, Peter looks up at Tony, still not moving to break their embrace. “You are, Mr. Stark.”

Tony cocks his head to the side. For the first time in his life, he does not have a doubt this is the truth. Not with these people.

“So are you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Tell me if you've read good fix-it fics, because I still need to work through my feelings. (How better to do that than by ignoring what happened?)


End file.
